Down On Me
Crusty old oaks
wave brittle arms angrily
overhead, threatening
to drop dead
crushingly
heavy limbs
Down
Taller trees
having achieved
the highest heights
pine away, lonely
jealously pouring their
sharp needles
Down
Towering above
terrifyingly insecure
in their position
they shakily
throw their shade
blocking sun and rain-
trying to keep me
Down
What did I do
to deserve such spite
but struggle to survive
with limited might
a dogwood sapling
that could never possibly
grow to over-shadow
them?
Copyright © Rhona Mcferran | Year Posted 2019
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